


You're the Tall Kingdom I Surround

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: Merlin is bruised and bloody. Arthur is sore and his muscles ache. They attempt sex and groan more than moan but it is all worth it in the end.





	

“Merlin! _Merlin_!” 

Arthur raced over the uneven ground, sidestepping the fallen bodies, his gaze jumping over the bloody field. He’d lost track of Merlin during the battle, losing sight of his manservant, and there were too many of Cenred’s men pressing around them. Before too long, each sweep of his sword was fueled by desperation, and he’d fended off every blow until he ached. Still the army came. They’d swarmed Arthur’s band of knights, outnumbering them badly. Arthur fought with half a mind turned to his men, hoping to catch a flash of Merlin’s blue shirt from the corner of his eye, but there was nothing but gleaming armor and crimson. 

Gradually, Arthur became aware that the tide was turning. There were fewer and fewer men swarming around them, and then they sounded the call for retreat. Arthur’s gasp sounded more like a sob, and by the time the enemy fled, his arms felt like they were going to fall off. There were more dead than running, and somehow, Arthur had only lost two knights. He left Leon to see to the bodies, single-minded in his need to find Merlin. Merlin always escaped unscathed, somehow, but there had been _so many_ of them and Merlin was so rubbish with a sword. The ache in his muscles faded, replaced by dull fear throbbing through his gut. 

“Merlin!” 

“Arthur.” 

Arthur spun towards the small sound, heart stopping at the sight of the bloody boy in front of him. Arthur’s eyes roved over Merlin, searching for the source. A cut just above his eye seemed to be the main cause, and Arthur felt sick at the thought of a blade close enough to cut him like that. But that was nothing compared to the nausea he experienced at the sight of Merlin’s chest. A gash cut open his shirt, and the blue beneath almost looked black. 

“Merlin. What…?” 

“I’m fine,” Merlin said quickly, his smile wan but a good attempt. “Arthur, I promise, I’m fine. It’s shallow.” 

Arthur wasn’t going to believe him until he checked for himself. He gripped Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him close. His heart still wasn’t beating at the proper speed, and Merlin looked so pale under the red, skin drawn tightly across his cheeks. Arthur lifted his hand to wipe the blood away from his cheek. Merlin swayed forward, resting his weight more squarely against Arthur. He didn’t mind. He was exhausted, but still strong enough to support both of them. 

“Arthur.” 

Arthur nodded. He knew what Merlin meant. He heard his own fear and relief echoed in Merlin’s voice, but he didn’t know what to say. Or if he should say anything at all. He skimmed his thumb over Merlin’s cheek again, knowing he was being far too tender, too obvious, but still choked with relief. 

“We have to get you stitched up,” Arthur finally managed. 

Merlin shook his head. “I’ve got to see who is injured.” 

“You’re gushing blood, Merlin. You’re not going to be any good to anybody if you bleed out.” 

“You’re going to stitch me up?” 

It’d have to be Arthur, since he wasn’t going to trust the job to anybody else. He dragged Merlin away from the remains of the battle, moving far enough away that he was still within shouting distance but out of sight. If Merlin thought there was anything strange about this, he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t mention that neither one of them had a needle or a thread. As soon as they were safely out of sight, Arthur pulled Merlin close and kissed him. Arthur had taken several blows directly to his chest, and pain blossomed through him, unfolding in long, red petals. He shuddered but didn’t let Merlin go, deepening the kiss, desperate to have the taste of Merlin coating his tongue. 

He backed Merlin up to the tree, muttering an apology when Merlin groaned with obvious pain. It wasn’t enough to make Merlin stop kissing him though, his fingers threading through Arthur’s hair and pulling him closer. If Merlin tried to push him away, Arthur wouldn’t blame him. He knew he was being greedy, selfish even. He drank Merlin in but wasn’t satisfied with that. He wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than everything. He sensed the same desperation in Merlin’s touch and the persistent pressure of his mouth. 

Merlin pushed his other hand between their bodies, long fingers reaching beneath the hem of Arthur’s chainmail to stroke his half-hard cock. The light pressure brought the rest of Arthur’s blood to his groin, and he slumped forward, the bark biting into his hand where he braced himself against the tree. His palm stung with splinters, and his legs felt dangerously unsteady, but Merlin’s tongue slid against his so sweetly. 

Merlin broke away to gasp for breath, exposing the line of his neck. Arthur ignored the thick trails of drying blood sliding into Merlin’s shirt collar, ducking his head to kiss the unbroken skin. His lips skinned over the coppery blood, and he felt Merlin’s throat work as he swallowed again and again. He dragged his free hand down Merlin’s chest, careful to avoid the cut, and pulled futilely at his pants. 

“Merlin, can I…?” 

He began pulling at the laces as soon as he felt Merlin’s nod of consent. He pushed Merlin’s pants down roughly, the muscles in his arm screaming at the quick, sharp motions. It felt like the all the blades he’d managed to avoid before were slicing into him at once, cutting down to the bone and tearing his flesh open. He groaned, slowing, and Merlin took over, pushing the breeches down the rest of the way and stepping out of them. 

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked, his voice deep with concern. 

Arthur nodded, knowing his voice would betray him if he spoke. He didn’t want Merlin to push him away out of misguided concern. He needed this more than he needed rest. The pain was secondary, inconsequential. Aftershocks of his earlier fear burst in his chest with every breath, continual reminders that for a moment he’d thought Merlin _dead_. Arthur wasn’t even sure how his world would work without Merlin in it. The taste of blood on his lips didn’t help. Neither did the pail, shaky way Merlin clung to him as Arthur pulled his glove off with his teeth. He licked two fingers, wetting them as much as he could before he stretched them past Merlin’s balls. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Arthur murmured as he pushed his middle finger into Merlin’s tight ass, knowing he was hurting Merlin despite his best efforts. Merlin held him tighter, lifting one leg to curl around Arthur’s leg. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Merlin gasped out. “Arthur…please…it’s fine.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you. I’ll stop.” 

“Don’t stop. Please don’t, Arthur.” 

Arthur wouldn’t, but he wished he could absorb the discomfort, add it to his own collection. Merlin ducked his head a little and claimed Arthur’s mouth again, barely muffling another low groan. Arthur buried his finger inside of Merlin completely, held it until Merlin’s muscles flexed, squeezing around him tightly. He twisted his wrist a little and then eased out, pumping his wrist carefully, forcing himself to be unhurried and deliberate. Merlin moaned and shifted down, taking Arthur’s finger in before Arthur had a chance to pump his wrist. 

Working his middle finger in was more difficult, and Arthur knew the knights would be searching for him soon. He couldn’t do this right, and he knew he shouldn’t do it at all, but he was so far past the point of stopping. 

“I need you, Arthur.” 

Arthur pulled free and took Merlin by the hip, lifting him off the ground. Merlin wrapped his legs around Arthur, his hand still between their bodies. He guided Arthur’s cock between his thighs, letting the head nudge his stretched opening. Arthur shifted, widening his stance, willing his legs to be strong enough to hold him. Merlin lifted his head, gazing at him with wide eyes. Arthur saw the fear in his blue depths and realized he wasn’t the only one who’d been frightened. _I thought you were dead. I thought you were going to die. You can’t leave me. You can’t ever leave._

Arthur pushed in, shuddering as the flesh closed around his sensitive head. Merlin’s legs tightened, heels pressing into Arthur’s ass, forcing him closer. He bore down, pushing until he had an inch, and then two inches, and then Arthur’s full length buried inside of him. 

“Oh, Arthur. Arthur…sire…Arthur…oh…” 

Neither of them moved. Merlin’s muscles fluttered around Arthur’s shaft, throbbing against him. But it was just enough to be inside of Merlin, to feel his heat and his pulse, to hear his groans and feel his breath. He pinned Merlin there, between his body and the tree, knowing he must have been irritating the cut. Knowing he couldn’t stop the slow trickle of blood with only the pressure of his body. Knowing the chainmail and the tree bark had to hurt Merlin. He wrapped his arms around Merlin and spun around, leaning against the tree, adjusting his grip until he was cradling Merlin’s back. 

Merlin rotated his hips, grinding against Arthur, and their mouths met again. Merlin couldn’t be speaking, but Arthur thought he heard him whispering devotions. Each time Merlin moved, Arthur forgot a little bit more about the agony under his skin. The pleasure ate it a piece of the time, taking it inside and dissolving it. It took the fear with it, too, until Arthur stopped trembling. A different sort of ache settled in the pit of his stomach, glowing brighter and brighter like coals in a forge. 

Merlin’s fingers dug into his shoulders with surprising strength and he arched back against the brace of Arthur’s arms, exposing his throat and putting some distance between their chests. Arthur couldn’t reach his lips anymore, so he settled on mouthing the ridge of Merlin’s throat, pausing to suck on his Adam’s apple. Merlin’s moan vibrated against Arthur’s lips and he moved his hips in a new rhythm, fucking himself. The heat intensified, and Arthur felt something faint, but solid like the rough pads of Merlin’s fingers slide over his skin. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer either one of them could last. Every roll of Merlin’s hips, every gasp and sigh, undid Arthur a little more. He was breaking apart, but he wasn’t scared. Somehow, he knew that when Merlin put him back together, he would be better than before. Healed. Stronger. He’d return to the bloody field with long strides, his voice would be deep and sure, and he’d forget how he had trembled with Merlin clinging to him. 

Merlin’s body went rigid and he clamped around Arthur’s length, his frame shuddering. Arthur bit his lip to keep back the shout, knowing it would bring all of his knights running. Merlin bit his own lip, but he wasn’t quite successful in silencing himself. He made a high, soft cry, and sound hit Arthur directly in the chest. His heart constricted, chest tightening until he didn’t think he’d draw another breath. His own release followed quickly, the bands around his torso snapping open, allowing him to take his first full, deep breath. 

Arthur expected the pleasure to ebb out of him and reveal that the pain had never really gone anywhere, his breath jerking with uneasy anticipation. Merlin put a hand flat against Arthur’s chest, and Arthur felt himself quieting beneath the reassuring pressure. 

They stumbled back to the knights five minutes later. The wounded were being seen to by their squires, and the remaining servants were setting up the camp. Leon immediately pulled Arthur aside to tell him a full report of the injured and dead, and he listened with his full attention. But in the back of his mind, he felt Merlin’s presence like a golden thread stretching between the two of them, unbreakable.


End file.
